Chapter 4: The Loser's Comeback (4)

　　Thinking that I would now become the target of the countless insults I’d seen prior to my regression made me feel a bit lightheaded. Sure, I had heard all sorts of nasty things when I appeared on broadcasts as Park Seowoon, but this felt entirely different. Criticism based on facts always stung twice as hard.

　　"I’ll practice the rap on my own later," I said, clearing my throat. "Let’s start with the choreography."

　　"Are you sure you’ll be okay?" Hayoung asked.

　　"Yeah. I can practice my vocals by myself, but I can’t do that with dancing. I think it’s better to practice the parts we can do together for now."

　　Jaejun nodded without any particular objections. Hayoung glanced between the two of us, then smiled brightly for no apparent reason.

　　"Kanghyun, I’m staying up late tonight," he offered.

　　"Huh?"

　　"If you have any questions while practicing by yourself later, text me anytime."

　　Seriously, how does Lee Kanghyun keep getting so lucky with the people around him?

　　I’d thought so in the past as well, but Kim Hayoung truly had an amazing personality. He definitely had a lot to prepare for his own evaluation right now, yet he was actively offering to help me like this. I felt deeply grateful, but at the same time, the guilt crept back in.

　　"I’ll treat you to a meal later," I blurted out.

　　"What’s with the sudden offer?"

　　"You too, Jaejun. I’ll buy you guys something super expensive, whether it’s an omakase or fine dining, so take your time and pick a place out. Got it?"

　　I have three hundred thousand dollars in my bank account, you see. Looks like Lee Kanghyun saved it all up just so I could spend it on you guys. However, thinking it was just a joke, the younger guys laughed it off. Seeing their unguarded, incredibly kind expressions made me feel guilty all over again.

　　"They say muscle memory is a real thing," Hayoung said, stepping away to queue up the track. "Your body might react instantly the moment we play the music."

　　He had sounded so hopeful, but putting his expectations to shame, my body didn’t react to the intro of "OVER" whatsoever. Forget reacting, my mind just went completely blank.

　　Even before this, I’d always been a far better singer than a dancer. Throughout the survival show, my lackluster dancing had drawn endless criticism, and I was notoriously slow at picking up choreography. The only reason I’d managed to hold on to my ranking was my vocal ability, but now, even that was…

　　"Could you run through the formations with me first? Do you happen to have it on video?"

　　The sheer scale of what I had to do felt overwhelming, but I didn’t have the luxury of despairing. The key was to somehow pull off my share perfectly. At the very least, I couldn’t drag these guys down. I refused to ruin someone else’s level test just because I was dragging my feet.

　　"I do, but I think it’d be better to just practice it on our feet," Moon Jaejun offered, stretching his arms.

　　I already knew Kim Hayoung was a good kid, but I was honestly surprised by Jaejun. He was turning out to be a much better guy than I’d initially given him credit for. He was helping me in earnest, without a single hint of annoyance.

　　"We’ll fall back here, and you stand over there for the rap, Kanghyun."

　　It was a massive relief that our group only had three trainees. If we had any more, the formations would have been twice as complicated.

　　"Then we shift back into a triangle, like this. Ta-da."

　　After running through the track a couple of times, we managed to produce something decent enough that we weren’t colliding with each other. I’d been secretly terrified, considering I hadn’t danced a step in years, but it seemed my muscle memory from months of grueling training camps hadn’t entirely vanished.

　　"The formations are simple enough," I said. "I just need to grind the choreography until I get it."

　　"It shouldn’t be too bad," Hayoung chimed in. "It’s a straight cover, so we don’t have to worry about adding original choreography."

　　No. Original choreography might actually be better.

　　But there was no need to shoot down his well-meaning encouragement, so I just offered a tight smile. It would be one thing if this were a routine I’d done before, but memorizing it from scratch made the road ahead look so impossibly steep that I had to bite back a heavy sigh.

　　"What time does tomorrow’s recording start again?" I asked.

　　"The call time is 9:00 a.m., but we have to hit the salon before that, so…"

　　Hayoung checked his phone, presumably for a message from management, as Jaejun filled in the blanks.

　　"We’re supposed to meet in front of the agency at six. They’re sending a car."

　　"Right. Six o’clock."

　　I glanced at the wall clock. It was currently 10:00 a.m. That gave me exactly twenty hours.

　　"Are there any harmonies?" I asked. "I can practice my solo parts on my own tonight, so let’s try to sync up the group sections as much as possible right now."

　　TICK, TOCK.

　　The countdown to my fate had officially begun.

* * *

　　When I first realized I had regressed into this life, I was honestly thrilled. Knowing the future, including the exact direction the show would take, felt no different than playing a video game with cheat codes enabled.

　　On top of that, I’d woken up in the body of fifth-place Lee Kanghyun instead of my own tenth-place vessel. I thought everything would be absolutely perfect. Smooth sailing from here on out.

　　"To think I’m tone-deaf," I muttered to myself.

　　The one saving grace, however, was my actual profession: vocal trainer. If I had suddenly taken over this body with zero musical background, I would have panicked. But I knew exactly how to fix this.

　　The dictionary definition of tone-deafness described someone with defective auditory skills, but in reality, true congenital defects of the ears or vocal cords were incredibly rare.

　　The vast majority of self-proclaimed tone-deaf individuals had no trouble listening to music or recognizing pitch. They simply didn’t know how to manipulate their vocal cords to produce the right sound. If it wasn’t that, it was usually a lack of rhythm or a fundamental misunderstanding of their own vocal range, which led them to choose songs completely unsuited for their voice.

　　Lee Kanghyun simply lacked vocal projection and technique. As long as his ears worked fine, I could overcome the physical limitations with my own expertise. I certainly didn’t have to worry about song selection or rhythm anymore.

　　While I wouldn’t be hitting my old high notes right away (this body had virtually zero fundamentals), I could at least avoid publicly humiliating myself.

　　First of all, Kanghyun’s range wasn’t bad, and his natural timbre was actually quite pleasant. After a little polishing, it sounded almost identical to my original voice. For that alone, I could thank God.

　　Unfortunately, unlike my singing, the state of my dancing remained bleak.

　　"I stayed up all night, and this is the best I can do?" I groaned, watching my reflection.

　　It was pathetic. I absolutely couldn’t show this to anyone. But the bigger problem was the time on my phone: 5:50 a.m.

　　No matter how I sliced it, twenty hours was simply too short. If I’d been given just three days, I could have put together a respectable performance. Facing the reality of my limits left a bitter, frustrating taste in my mouth.

　　"Kanghyun!"

　　Stepping out to the front of the agency right on time, I was greeted by Hayoung, who must have arrived a few minutes early.

　　"Why are you coming out of the building?" he asked, eyes wide.

　　"What do you mean?"

　　"Don’t tell me you didn’t go home."

　　"Ah, yeah. Pulled an all-nighter."

　　If there was one thing I was profoundly grateful for regarding Lee Kanghyun’s body, it was the raw stamina. I didn’t know if he was a gym rat or just genetically blessed, but he was absurdly fit, even for a guy in his twenties. After hours of relentless dance practice, my muscles didn’t ache. Despite pulling an all-nighter, my mind felt perfectly sharp. It was nothing short of a miracle.

　　If this were an RPG, Kanghyun’s starting stats would look something like this: Dance C, Vocal F, Looks A, and a proud S+ in Stamina.

　　"Aren’t you going to crash?" Hayoung asked, looking concerned. "I heard this shoot takes an insanely long time."

　　I knew that very well. I’d already lived through it once.

　　The first filming for Pick Your Fantasy boasted a brutal schedule, starting bright and early and dragging on until well past midnight. With ninety-nine contestants to process, it was a logistical nightmare. As the hours ticked by, you’d inevitably see trainees nodding off in their seats. Whenever the exhaustion got too obvious, the production crew would have to halt the shoot just to give everyone a breather.

　　I knew what was coming, but there was no helping it. From here on out, all I could do was endure through sheer willpower.

　　"I didn’t have time to sleep," I admitted. "I’m still at a level where I barely have the choreography down."

　　Honestly, since I’d already regressed and taken over someone else’s body, it would’ve been nice if the universe had tossed in a few bonus perks. A photographic memory for dance routines, maybe? Or the supernatural ability to perfectly mimic someone else’s movements on the first try?

　　Sadly, reality wasn’t a movie. If anything, it was vastly more unforgiving. After drilling the routine all night, I could approximate the moves, but that was it. There was zero time to focus on the finer details or clean up my angles. This was the absolute limit of cramming.

　　Once we got on stage, I was going to stick out like a sore thumb. I’d look like a kid stumbling through a school play while everyone else performed like seasoned pros. My only prayer was that the judges wouldn’t tank Hayoung and Jaejun’s scores just because of my blunders.

　　"My only worry is that you guys will take the heat for my mistakes," I said.

　　"Aw, man, why are you worrying about that?" Hayoung nudged me. "From now on, we’re a team. We sink or swim together."

　　To be perfectly honest, I’d secretly looked down on Kanghyun’s personality in my past life, but maybe he hadn’t been as terrible a guy as I’d assumed. Seeing how fiercely loyal a younger trainee from his own agency was to him proved he had some redeeming qualities.

　　"Wouldn’t it be better to just be honest and tell the production team you got amnesia two days before filming?" Hayoung joked. "They’d probably cut you some slack."

　　It wasn’t like the thought hadn’t crossed my mind. But if I imagined the internet’s reaction once the episode aired…

　　—They said Lee Kanghyun bombed his performance because he got amnesia two days before the shoot and forgot the choreo. How wild. Crazy bastard.

　　└ I’m gonna use that excuse with my professor next time I miss a deadline lmao.

　　—Did the Pick-Fan PD win the cosmic lottery or something? Where do they keep finding these natural-born attention seekers?

　　—Amnesia is so fucking funny. What kind of drama queen pulls a stunt like that?

　　└ Fr, he probably thinks he’s the main character lol. He could’ve practiced the choreography instead of coming up with a fake illness. Ugh.

　　—I really hope my bias doesn’t end up on the same team as Lee Kanghyun haha. Just putting that out there. He seems like the type who’ll throw a tantrum if he isn’t the center of the group.

　　Yeah, it was definitely better to lay low and try to fly under the radar.